The Glass of Fashion and the Mould of Form
by HungLikeARainbro
Summary: The Cat learns about love from his surrogate-parents


**The Glass of Fashion and the Mould of Form**

"I just don't get it," the Cat huffed slamming down his box of Krispies.

Lister eyed the crumpled box corners serenely. It was too early in the afternoon for a proper reaction. "What?"

"You and Alphabet-head. I mean just how?" His nose wrinkled childishly. "…No, gross, don't tell me how." Lister often felt like the Cat _was_ his and Rimmer's proxy child. They had very slowly and gently explained their blossoming relationship a few weeks ago, and like a youngster finding out that their parents still did the horizontal (amongst other positions) Red Dwarf shuffle, he was finding it all very offensive. "Don't tell me how," the Cat repeated smacking his lips distastefully, one of a few ancient feline traits that had carried through his genetics. "Give me the why. Why do you bother with him?"

"Why?" Lister didn't need to think. "I love him."

He looked at Lister like he'd just been offered dog food as a tasty dessert. "Seriously?"

"Sorry mate, but that's the answer."

"Look, I'm going to tell you something, just between us and I'll deny I ever said it if you tell anyone."

"Okay," said Lister, an amused grin threatening the corners of his mouth.

"You're far too good for him. You're kinda cool, in a filthy, bad fashion, awful taste, terrible hygiene kind of way."

"That's really sweet of you, Cat."

He bristled uncomfortably at the compliment. "It's just an operation I've made."

"Observation."

"Yeah yeah. Which brings me back to my first point. Why? You're total opposites."

"S'pose that's why it works."

"But he's such a bigamist."

That knocked Lister for six. "Eh?"

"You know – always whining about something."

"You mean pessimist," he laughed.

"Yeah that, and you're an optometrist."

Lister didn't bother to correct him again. They'd be there all day. "How do I put this... opposite isn't such a bad thing. I mean, you'd go out with a cat with white fur right? Or ginger?"

The Cat didn't look convinced by the argument, and was clearly just imagining large-breasted white and ginger lady cats.

Lister snapped his fingers. "Come back for a sec. Watch this." He took the three drinking glasses from the breakfast table and the carton of milk from next to Cat's bowl. Cat was about to protest but for reasons Lister would never know he let him proceed. He poured milk halfway up two of the glasses. "This glass," explained Lister carefully, "is half-full. But if you asked Rimmer he'd tell you it was half-empty."

The Cat raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow.

Lister poured both milks into the third glass to the brim. "Together, we're a full glass. Get it? See it now?"

"All I see is lunch," said the Cat, tipping the glass over his cereal.

"What I'm saying, Cat," he groaned impatiently, "is we complete each other." But it was too late; the Cat was engrossed in gorging himself on puffed rice and probably didn't even remember that they were having a conversation.

"Afternoon all," Rimmer piped in an uncharacteristically chipper tone as he entered.

"Arnie…" Lister practically sighed, aware that it made him a terrible cliché, and reached out an arm to bring him down for a more lip-based greeting.

He bent over and obliged, unused to such affection but becoming more and more eager to make it a regular occurrence. "What are you two up to?" he mumbled between kisses three and four.

"Just teaching the Cat about love."

"Good luck with that – _I_ haven't even gotten the hang of it yet."

Lister kissed him again. "You're learning," he said with a grin and wanted to bottle the shy smile Rimmer gave him so he could take it out whenever he was smegging him off as a reminder he wasn't all bad and was actually rather devastatingly cute. "Breakfast?"

Rimmer nodded, picking up his glass and frowning at the milk residue inside. He did it every real-afternoon-but-Lister-morning; sat down to lunch with no intention of eating, knowing supplies were low, but not wanting to be left out. The Cat would always 'steal' his milk, and Rimmer, in his fatherly duty, let him.

"Sorry babe. Cat needed his Krispies urgently."

Rimmer shrugged and set the glass back down. "Oh well, there's always more milk."

Cat looked up from his bowl, with a wink at Lister. "That sounded a little half-full to me." He watched Lister sneak a hand over Rimmer's and got a strange warm tingle in his chest.

"Yep," said Lister. "He's definitely learning."

And Cat finally got it.


End file.
